Girl Of Ice
by Pyralis Anacreon
Summary: Kaitlyn's first boyfriend, trying to make sense of it all.


Girl of Ice

* * *

Kaitlyn's first boyfriend, trying to make sense of it all.

* * *

He spends a lot of time thinking about it before he asks the witch-girl out.

She's pretty, beautiful even, and if they didn't live in such a small town... if this were a city or if there were just one place in town where you could go to be a stranger to everyone, she would have been the girl that every guy wanted. Her hair was the color of fire - it made you want to reach out, feel if it is really burning or warm like sunshine, if it crackles and frays like tongues of flame or if it is smooth and shining.

And her eyes are... well, they're most of the reason everyone thinks she's a witch. They're beautiful in a different way, an alien and inhuman way. They're beautiful the way that a husky's ice blue ones are, the way a hawk's Day-Glo orange eyes are beautiful. Haunting and not meant for a human face.

The other reason everyone thinks she's a witch is the drawings. That's proof, that's a fact no one can get around. Because Kaitlyn Fairchild's most disturbing drawings always come true.

He can't remember when the rumor started, but he remembers the day it was proven. Kaitlyn was drawing in class - he sat behind her. It was history, already uninteresting, and the heavy drum of rain on the windows made it even harder to pay attention.

Kait's head was bent over a drawing. The teacher's voice cut off suddenly. The class took half a second to realize that something was happening, and then the teacher was standing beside Kaitlyn, and then he was snatching the paper away from her. She cried out and jerked as if coming out of a trance. One hand went up, almost taking the paper back. The teacher's grip on it tightened and he moved it out of reach. His eyes burned with authoritative rage. He looked at the drawing, which half the class was already staring at, transfixed.

It was in black, white, and shades of graphite gray, but still managed to portray its image very well. A house on fire.

"That's my house." The teacher said numbly.

The phone rang. The class was dead silent as the teacher moved, near-mechanically, to pick it up. He listened. The world held its breath. His head turned without the rest of his body moving, and he stared right at Kaitlyn. Then he hung up the phone and walked out of class.

The kids tittered nervously to themselves, and when a substitute came in ten minutes later they still hadn't gotten the courage to speak above a quiet whisper.

Later, it came out that the teacher's house had been struck by lightning. It burned down. His wife and baby daughter were hospitalized, stable but survival uncertain.

Since that day in first grade, Kaitlyn had been the witch. And she'd been alone.

So he'd taken time to think about it before he asked her out. The rumors said she could put a curse on you with her witch-eyes - but after seeing Sarah spit in her face and mock her he thought that if Kait could curse someone half to school would be dead. Rumors also held that she worshiped strange gods and made animal sacrifices to them in the woods. The thought made him nervous, but hey, America is the place to go for freedom of religion.

In the end, he had no reason not to ask her out, except for the social shame it would bring on him. And he was going to get out of this tiny town anyway, and he'd never have to see any of them again.

He asked her out.

She looked at him like he was the sole redemption of all humanity. It was scary and exhilarating at once. She said yes.

Very quickly, he figured out that Kaitlyn had no idea how to act around people. She didn't know how to react, how to keep a pointless conversation going. She liked silence and stillness, and things that had meaning. She saw no reason for social niceties and she didn't want the things he did. He wanted romance - she wanted someone to talk to, a best friend and confidante. She wanted him to be all the friends she never had and when she realized that he could not be that she pulled away.

Kaitlyn Fairchild, the girl with an icy heart.

We made her like that, he thinks. We made it so that she had to freeze her heart - or let it kill her.

When she dumped him, he was thinking I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Because he couldn't change anything and she wouldn't let him anyway. Kaitlyn Fairchild didn't have a heart, but she had pride. It kept her back straight and her hair burning and her eyes cursing. It would refuse help from those who had scorned her and would spit on their pity.

So he leaves that tiny, backwards town thanking any god who will listen that he doesn't have to watch the girl made of ice melt away.


End file.
